


Real Measurement for Time

by nowsaguaro



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Camping, Consequences, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Road Trips, Showing California some love, abandoned when author got covid19 lol, secrecy, serious conversations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowsaguaro/pseuds/nowsaguaro
Summary: The crew goes on a camping trip to a nearby mountain town for the weekend.Truths come out.Set in Big Bear and LAA little something funny and sweet.In Spanish, the word for waiting and the word for hope share a root.
Relationships: Penelope Alvarez/Schneider
Comments: 28
Kudos: 39





	1. Woodsy

Penelope grumpily assembles the clothes she didn’t mind getting all _woodsy_.

Schneider stands squinting from the doorway to her bedroom, analyzing her duffle, now filled with bug spray, cocoa oil, high socks, sunscreen, three kinds of deodorant, and a stack of underwear. “Are you planning on wetting yourself several times on this trip?”

“Huh?” Penelope looks lost and agitated.

Schneider points to the stack of hanes. “It’s two days and one night. Do you always change undies every 10 hours?”

“All it takes is sitting on one wet log!” Penelope dramatically lifts her index finger, “and your fundillo stays soaked for the rest of the weekend!”

“Ju cood die like dat.” Lydia suddenly appears behind Schneider, casting a tiny shadow into the room.

Penelope purses her lips and lifts her eyebrows in an I-told-you-so shape.

“Consider the subject dropped.” Schneider pivots, “so, why are you packing so late? We leave at 4am... and you strike me as someone who would have had this all planned out for days.”

“I was hoping this would get cancelled or something to be honest.” She busies herself with packing, the items getting more and more unnecessary. “That and I hate camping.”

“Not to be insensitive, Pen,” he closes one eye to brace himself, “but didn’t you have a sort of super long camping trip before?”

Lydia raises her eyebrows and exits when she hears Alex’s door open. Penelope looks impatient.

“If you’re referring to my time _serving_ , then yeah, Schneider, I guess I’ve had some adventurous outings.”

“Is that why you don’t like camping?”

“ _No_ ,” she pointedly places another pair of socks in the duffel, “ _actually,_ I just hit a certain age and stopped wanting to get filthy.” She grimaces.

“That’s not what _I’ve_ heard.” He leans against the door frame and smiles suggestively at her.

She feigns outrage (to bury her proud smile) and throws a small balled up sock at him. “Hey, how about we just see you in the morning?”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it.” Schneider claps his hands together, sighing like it was his idea to leave. “Avery and I will be down around 3:45.” He poses it as a question but it is, annoyingly, a reality.

Penelope responds by flattening her lips into a line.

He tilts his head, “wondering if it’s too late to fake sick?” He smiles and starts down the hallway, “cause, yeah, it is!”

She groans and her curls fall in front of her face, “see you tomorrow, Schneider.” Her eye roll nearly breaks her neck.

To get to sleep at this hour (and brace herself for the weekend), Penelope relies on her standby of a swig of off-brand Zzzquil and a cold night-slice of two day old pizza. She falls asleep within 30 minutes.

* * *

When 3:45am comes around, Alex and Penelope seem to be the only ones in the group aware of the hour. 

And when the “buenos días, everyone about ready to jam?!” rings in the doorway, Lydia has thermoses of Café Bustelo ready to go.

Loading the car is a task and a half with the combination of the vain and the pathologically over-prepared in the group. By 4am, Elena and Schneider have already high fived multiple times and the more Penelope gets to know Avery, the more she’s picking up on the fact that Avery’s kind and chipper voice is colored by a sympathetic – almost patronizing – tone whenever they speak. How infuriating. Penelope talks to herself, _kay, boo, maybe she's actually genuinely nice and you just hate rich people. Less than 40 hours. You can do this._

\--

The ride to Big Bear is only two hours that early but, with Lydia’s storytelling and Schneider and Avery’s overexcited chatter, it feels longer for Penelope. Especially after Avery and Elena switch places at a gas station to help Elena’s motion sickness on the winding mountain roads. Turns out Schneider and Elena could also use some volume control. 

\--

“Oh you have GOT. to be kidding me, E-Schneider.” Penelope looks up from her maroon Walmart tent to a cathedral of no doubt high-tech outdoor fabric. It must be standard for the tall and the wealthy, but she’s almost sure that she had a baby shower for her prima in one of these a few months back.

Schneider and Avery look over their REI-clad shoulders to the humble nylon home, already the site of a heated argument and last minute duct tape. “Oh.” Avery eyes it sympathetically. “Why don’t you four sleep in here? We can swap.”

Penelope tries her best not to growl. “No, we’re perfectly fine, Avery. Thanks.”

“No, really, Penelope!” She plays with the hair on Schneider’s neck. “It’d be more intimate anyway.”

Schneider giggles. _Looking at them interact tastes like quarters._

Penelope flicks her eyes to her mother, who is already in the (glacier-paced) process of shuffling their bags across the campsite to the other tent. “No, thanks, Avery. We’re good with what we have.”

Lydia, with no self awareness, scoffs at her daughter’s pride.

* * *

The day continues on in a similar flavor, though with the unwelcome but highly expected addition of the kids’ increasingly bad moods. They all trail easily 30 feet behind the couple for the entire zero incline hike.

“Mamiiiii! Por favoorrr!” Elena drops her bag on the ground. “I’ll never be peak queer. How’m I supposed to represent the fight against environmental exploitation with my farmer wife when I can’t even make it a day in the woods?”

“Honey, I’m not sure those things have to go hand in hand. You know people live in the desert and stuff, right?” Penelope looks at her exhausted pobrecita.

“Well I don’t like the desert either.” She enters into a grumpy oppositional mode.

Alex chimes in, impatient with her attitude. “Elena, we’ve only ever gone to Cabazon… and that was to see the dinosaur statues with _Schneider_. I’m not sure that counts.”

Penelope tries to lighten the mood, “you should visit Carmen in Austin! That’s the desert, right?”

Alex corrects her, “it’s actually at the intersection of four different climate zones.”

Penelope and Elena pause to stare at him and he looks back. “What? I read stuff.”

“Ju arr both rrong. It is a rrainforest home to many e-tropical birds.”

“Mami, I _know_ none of that is true.”

Schneider’s voice echoes from ahead, “hey, Alvarezeseses!” He and Avery laugh. “Hurry up! We can cook up some beans back at the campsite for dinner! Ándale!” He winces and continues his unnecessary yell, “that sounded, um, I meant – like camping tradition, not like – because you’re Cuban. Not that you _don’t_ eat beans - I just mean –”

He fumbles until they’re caught up with him, and Alex fields it, “walk it off, bro” and he pats him on the shoulder.


	2. Sleepless in San Bernardino

After dinner, Elena, who made it through the entire day without a single Brokeback Mountain reference, silently smiles to herself when she finally stretches out into the sleeping bag. “Y’know,” she poses at the family crammed into the tent, “Schneider and Avery seem happy.”

The rest of the group nods. Penelope raises her eyebrows while she busies her hands, though with no intention to voice a single opinion to these chismos@s. Lydia catches that.

“Perrfec for eashother.” She mentally prods at Penelope while they all finish getting situated.

“Goodnight, everybody. Flashlights off.” Penelope commands and Alex and Elena close the app on their phones. 

After a second, Schneider unzips their tent door, breaking the second long silence.

“Por el amor de Dios!” Penelope screams, “even in the mountains?!”

He responds with a (weak) apologetic face and whispers, “just wanted to say that I had a great time today and I hope you all did, too.” His whisper is louder and sharper than his speaking voice but his sincerity never flinches.

Lydia, closest to the door flap, smiles sweetly and leans forward to wordlessly zip it back up.

His silhouette, caused by the fire, still haunts their tarp wall and he offers a cheery “buenas noches!” before slinking back to his own tent. 

* * *

Penelope wakes up – or decides to sit up from a fruitless rest – around 1am. After 10 minutes of staring at her maroon fabric ceiling, she puts on her sweatshirt and quietly exits the tent. 

She doesn’t want to wander very far but she wants to be reasonably out of ear shot from all of the snorers. Penelope finds the view they stared out from when they first parked, though now the famous valley seems to have even more sky to it. 

Mistakenly, she lets her thoughts roam.

In the eerie quiet, Penelope can hear someone unzipping and rezipping their tent flap from the campsite, followed by the sound of feet clumsily pushing aside pine needles on the rock floor.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Schneider sits gracelessly down next to her.

“I’m thinking that… the stars are incredible here. I forgot there was more than, like, the five you can see back home.”

Schneider chuckles at that and breathes out at the night. His eyes flow naturally upward, too. “There’s definitely more than a few.” He looks over at her. “Y’know.” He swallows a smile when he sees her focus on the sky. “Some of those stars are dead already. But they’re just so far away that their image hasn’t disappeared for us yet.”

“Are you trying to lay a metaphor down or something right now? Because I’m not really getting it.” She looks over at him.

“There’s no point to trivia except our enrichment, Pen.” Schneider feigns exasperation, knowing she hates when he says stuff like that. She doesn’t react. “So, why are you  _ really _ out here, girl?”

“I couldn’t sleep. How about you?” She scrapes her boots nervously, loosening some pebbles.

“Oh, I just heard you walk in this direction.” He says matter-of-factly.

“And you followed me through the woods? Creep.” Penelope pretends to be offended and softly nudges him. “And why weren’t  _ you _ asleep?”

“Barely slept last night, so I wanted to keep the streak going.” He smiles, evasively. At her impatient expression, he adds, “and I was worried about you.”

Now she actually is offended. “You were  _ worried _ about me?” Her hands flail in air quotes.

“Answer me this, then, if my concern was so off-base: why couldn’t you sleep?” Schneider knows he won.

She sighs. 

“I don’t know how I got here. To where I am.”

His smug smile evaporates. “Pen, are you not happy?” He asks with a naïve amount of disbelief.

“No, no, I’m happy. Just…” she scrunches her face, “in a weird way. Not how I would have thought my life would look.”

“Do you feel like you’re missing something?”

_ How does he know me so well?  _ “Well... I haven’t gotten laid in a while.” She laughs.

Schneider laughs a little too hard. “I know you’re not sitting in the scary woods thinking about getting that batter mixed.”

“No, I’m not. But– I don’t know.” Penelope sits forward so she can turn to face him. “I always thought that with a degree, and kids, and a marriage under my belt, and everyone healthy– I just thought I’d feel… done. Or something.”

“Does it feel like you’re  _ waiting _ or like you’re doing something wrong?”

“Like I’m supposed to be doing something I’m not doing.” She looks down, suddenly very fascinated with her hood’s drawstrings. “I just– I see you and Avery and…” Penelope loses her nerve.

Now Schneider’s interest is piqued by more than his concern. “... and what?” He considers whispering but he instead practically barks it out.

She sits back next to him, almost with a scowl in her defensiveness. “What do you mean ‘and what?’ I am doing all this  **stuff** and I’m doing it a- _ lone _ and – and– you’re not getting a degree  _ or _ raising teenagers but you have a partner who loves you, just supporting you while you chill upstairs!” Her curls bounce while she jerks around her hands.

He knows this isn’t a criticism, but it hits him in the heart anyway. “Hey, hey, hey.” He grabs the top of her head in his massive palm and turns it towards him. “You are not. alone. If you feel unsupported, I can do more! I can take on some of the worrying for you. And the cleaning. Pretty much anything except practicing medicine.”

She smirks. “It is not your job to pick up any slack. That's unfair to you.”

Schneider gives her a you-know-better face. “I don’t need you to mix my batter,” he wiggles his ring finger, “to want to help you feel supported.”

“I’d mix  _ your _ batter? I think you really don’t grasp that euphemism, Schneider.”

He laughs when she laughs.

Penelope turns to look at him and lightly kicks his knee with her foot. “Well, thank you.”

He bites a laugh at how short her legs are. “Of course.” He tries his best to pat her hand platonically on the rock, but he lingers.

There’s a long pause.

“Hey, so, Schneider?” She turns her head up to look at him. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

"I guess I feel a little directionless, too. Like I'm staring down the barrel of my future now at f- my age, and I've got nothing coming up. No pin drops on my timeline. I don't know."

"Well, what about marriage? Or moving somewhere new? I mean… you have money, so you can kinda do anything."

He smirks. “That’s the thing – I  _ do _ a lot, I just don’t  _ Do _ a lot. Not like you. You’re superwoman.”

A moment of quiet.

Raindrops start to form wet spots on the ground before the rain makes a sound and before the two begin to feel it on their cheeks. When it picks up, they both stand up from their spot on the rock.

“Oh crap, oh crap!” Schneider covers his quaff with his hood and tugs it tight to frame his face.

“Schneider, didn’t you triple check the forecast this morning?”

He points out at the barely connected clouds, “Pen, I don’t think there’s exactly a hurricane coming.” He deadpans.

And just like that, the drops stop falling except for the residual dripping from the trees. Schneider pulls a few loose pine needles from Penelope’s hair.

He looks out to the valley. “It’s so quiet.”

“Yeah,” Penelope sighs contentedly, “that’s new.”

“Maybe that’s the real reason we couldn’t sleep – no sirens to lull us down.”

She responds distractedly. “Huh. Maybe.”

Schneider pulls them back down into their (now wet) rock seats.

“Y’know… going back to what you said before. I don’t think I’d go anywhere.” He chuckles down at her. “Leave SoCal? Not for me.”

“Couldn’t hack it in a place without your yogi-nutritionist with White people dreadlocks?” Penelope picks on him. Part of her thinks he likes it when she does that.

“Well, that, and everything else LA has! Sailing, hiking, my life-coach –”  _ my family _ , he thinks.

The unspoken list item is not lost on Penelope. “My life is here, too.” She pinches his side. “Less fu-fu money stuff but… maybe my kinda roots aren’t bad.”

“See, Pen. Maybe it’s not love that you’re looking for! Just, uh, the freedom to sink in. Chill for a while.” Schneider floats his hand in a smooth line through the air.

“Like, maybe I’m not done because I don’t wanna be?” She tries to grasp his point.

“Well. Maybe you don’t know how to be done. What’s next, Miss Thang? Med school?”

She grimaces in response.

He continues, “well, your kids will graduate. They’ll go elsewhere for school…”

“Shut up shut up shut up, Schneider! In my head, they’re still eight and they play with Mami’s curling iron!”

“Okay, fine. If you’re so afraid of the future, why don’t you just relax? For a  _ minute _ ?”

Penelope holds her squinted and skeptical challenger stare for a beat and then puffs out, “yeah, okay.” She half-smiles.

“Alright,” Schneider uses his conductor hand to motion at his chest swell and Penelope joins in:

“In – 2, 3, 4, Out – 2, 3, 4.”

She slumps on his shoulder while their lungs sync, now each with a hand on the other's chest. Now without narration.

Penelope already feels more ready for sleep than she did in the tent.

“Hey.” Her voice is a little shaky while also direct. “Schneider?

...are we in love with each other?”


	3. The Elephant in the Woods

“Hey.” Her voice is a little shaky while also direct. “Schneider?-

  
  


...Are we in love with each other?”

 _Wow._ He knows he can’t stay quiet so he fights his own shaky breath. “I donno, Pen, I mean?” Schneider looks at his hands. “Prolly?” He resigns, almost trying comedy. “Yeah, we might be.”

“So. Do we… do anything about it? Like, where do we go from here?” Penelope seems almost like she genuinely wants his advice. _Does she?_

“ _Weirdly enough_ ,” Schneider starts slowly and sarcastically and swallows, “because I never really, um, thought we’d have this conversation, I am pretty blueprint-less at the moment.”

“Never?” Penelope prods skeptically, searching his face. “You never thought our-” she air-quotes, “ _‘feelings’_ would come up?” She hates herself for this a little.

“Well. Not this way. Not like this…” He waves a non-committal hand at the woods, the sky, and their spot on the ground. And then behind them at their respective lives, asleep in nylon huts.

She continues to fish for where he's at. Maybe that'd give her a clue where she was. “Like… what?”

“With me seeing someone and unable to do anything and – you – I mean _you_ being the one to…” 

“Unable to ‘do’ anything?” Penelope nods into herself and smiles, although a little sad. “I mean. True.”

“I guess I sometimes thought we’d _grow old_ together, just in our special floor-apart-separate-beds kind of way, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She nods theatrically now. “I know.”

He sighs dramatically and puts his arm over her shoulder. “You and me, man.”

“Ride or die.” She leans into the cold side hug. They stay like that.

* * *

  
  


Penelope is startled awake by sharp and annoying tweeting. And slow, heavy breathing. The sky is a few shades brighter than it was when she fell asleep.

Sure enough, Schneider is passed out next to her. Before she can shake him awake, he squints his eyes open to whip his head in the direction of the noise, a blue and black bird on the stone ground beside them. 

When he fully clicks into reality, Schneider groan-yells. “Oh, I’m 80!” He writhes and grabs his back, unable to sit up yet, “I’m 80 years old and I’m never going to feel joy again!”

“Can you stop screaming, please?!” Penelope winces, first reaching for her head, then her shoulders. “... and, yeah, ditto.”

Once able to stand (after taking time to also brace their knees), the two make it back to the very quiet campsite. _Nice_.

“I’ll be right out,” Penelope smiles softly while she quietly unzips her tent, glad to apparently successfully get away with a questionable decision.

“Oh! Gracias a Dios!”

Penelope jolts, “ah! Mami, what the hell? Why are you up?” She whisper-screams to not wake the kids.

“I tot they took ju!” Lydia clutches her rosary and pulls it to her cheek.

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“The mountain witches!” Lydia's recognition of the occult really only serves to broaden her fears and anxiety.

“I mean, sure.” Penelope shrugs patronizingly. “Not like a mountain lion or snake bite or something?”

Lydia clicks her tongue. “Lupe, don’t be crazy, guat are the shances?”

She sighs, “you’re right Mami, I’m an idiot. Well I’m okay. I’m here, alright?” She rolls her eyes while she crouches in their tent to find her other sweatshirt.

“Soo…” Lydia squints. “Guere wer ju?” She purses her lips, and seems to not be leaping to conclusions for the first time ever.

“Just went on a walk, Mami. Okay?” Penelope, looking back, starts getting agitated about last night’s conversation. Embarrassed, almost.

“Lupe, I’ve bín op for _hours_. Dat most have bín _sooome_ walk.” She squints again, now definitely formulating ideas. When Lupe leans away to grab the dry sweatshirt, Lydia gasps, leaning to brush off her back. “Ay! Pero qué pasó?” 

Penelope’s eyes shoot open. “Déjame, Mami, ya!” She hurries out of the tent.

Schneider has a fire going and is already heating the skillet. He looks up at Penelope and smiles. “I heard voices. Who’s up?”

“Uh, lil Riera P.I. in there thought I had a one woman Blair Witch moment last night.” She eye rolls.

Schneider meets this with a bit of a not-so-guilty _woops_ -face. “Pen–”

“Morning morning!” Avery calls while unzipping the screen door and stepping out of the comically extravagant tent.

Schneider stays seated on the log but turns partially over his shoulder to offer a nervous smile. If he had been faster, he wouldn’t have had to see Penelope losing her smile.

Avery walks over behind Schneider to kiss the top of his head and frowns down at his jacket. “Sweetie, did you slip?” She begins to wipe off pine needles and pebbles glued by wet dirt to his back. “You’re positively covered in filth!”

Lydia, ever the pot-stirrer, creeps dramatically out of the tent, “jes, Lupita has a bit of nature e-stuck to her back, too.”

Penelope mutters under her breath at her mother, “you sure _you’re_ not the forest witch, Mami?”

Avery knows _Schneider is clumsy. It couldn’t be anything._ Though, the pair’s silence is certainly more deafening by the second. She can’t help but flick her eyes between the two of them. _Waiting. Waiting._ “Okay, so you both… what? Did a morning hike?” She knows that’s not it. _Waking up early doesn’t have two adults staring at their shoes._

Schneider, itching for a conversation change, breaks the silence. “We fell asleep outside.”

 _Oh, so we’re going with the truth. Huh, doesn’t sound so bad out loud,_ Penelope thinks. _Quite a bit of story missing, though._

Avery’s face visibly cracks. The four of them know that’s going to be a loud private conversation later. “Oh.” She tries to achieve the same chipper smile as before. “Well, what are you making, honey?” _Leave it to the high society to manufacture a fake mood over debilitating anxieties._

Elena and Alex climb out of the tent. _Oh, thank God._

Lydia pans a skeptical eye back to Penelope.

Penelope looks at the bundled up sweatshirt that she never changed into and lifts it, taking her leave back into the tent. “Well.” She doesn't bother with any explanation and disappears.

Alex scans the area. “Weird vibe out here, guys.”


	4. Sounds Like a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's finally back to normal. [?]

Penelope invents a dozen micro-tasks that absolutely don’t need to be done now, if at all, like re-rolling the sleeping bags and neatly stacking her mother’s magazines. This is all to avoid whatever tension hangs like humidity in the pine scented outdoors, but when laughter erupts from the campground, she decides to brave that sticky, social humidity.

“Mami,” Alex calls, approaching the tent, “oye, Schneider was saying we could catch a movie in Riverside instead of staying in the mountains ‘til after rush hour.” He looks genuinely excited to do something new.

Penelope loves when her kids seem like… kids again. “Yeah, uh,” Penelope processes, “that sounds like a great excuse to not hike anymore.”

“And to not be in the woods in the dark!” Schneider adds from under Avery’s territorial arm. When everyone looks at him, he hops on the defensive. “Oh, like you all slept so soundly!”

“We finally broke down and admitted we’re all city people.” Elena theatrically exhales, putting her hands on her hips. “Feels good to get that off my chest.”

Penelope, idiotically, flicks her eyes to Schneider, whose gaze was already waiting for hers. A reflex that would no doubt get them into trouble with the tiny marriage-obsessed chismosa sleuth joining them on their weekend ‘vacation’. The pair make sure to fascinate themselves with any nearby object.

“Also, Pen,” Schneider guiltily starts, “I burnt breakfast.”

“Y olvidé el café.” Lydia shakes a fist at the heavens. “Not enof for el day two.”

Penelope closes her eyes and exhales, “Ay, no coffee? Enough said!” She, too, curses the Espresso Molido gods for taking her only source of energy and morning comfort. She does make sure to raise a disappointed eyebrow at the skillet with empty familiar minimalist cartons– “Schneider, were you boiling Soylent for breakfast?” Penelope suppresses a shocked gag.

He laughs, “well, it was Soylent _Cacao_ ,” he burdens his mouth with over-annunciation. “I was trying to make a nutritional ho-cho to start our day off right.”

Penelope prays for patience. “Is ‘ho-cho’ a cutesie abbreviation for hot chocolate?”

Schneider bites his lip, feeling persecuted for the second time today over his culinary choices. “You know it is.”

“Beyond just word choice and your little episode of 'Kitchen Nightmares' here,” Penelope wipes a hand through the air to indicate the fire, “I’m gonna give you a cultural sensitivity lesson. You ready?”

He nods.

“Cubans. Cubans don’t really do the ‘meal replacement’ beverage thing.” Penelope air-quotes menacingly.

Schneider bites a laugh at how angry she was getting, even if it was just to pick on him. Back to normal. “Noted.” He smacks his thighs before standing up from the log.

Alex mutters to Schneider, “te dije o te dije, man?”

“Last time I try to care for the family’s nutrients.” He shrugs.

“E-Schneider,” Lydia offers patronizingly, “de only nutrients arr café, puerco, plátanos, arroz, and, for me, a bit of ron.” She pats his butt and retreats into the maroon tent.

\--

After an hour of clean-up, fire-smothering, and hazardous tent dismantling, the crew is ready to head down to civilization again. The actual town of Big Bear is less than two miles away, but it felt further from their spot in the woods. Before the car is fully packed again, the group feels a little light. They do inventory.

“No, gui arr not missink anytin,” Lydia says confidently.

“Abuelita… _Mom_ is missing.” Elena deadpans, a little concern playing across her voice.

Alex does an accurate Penelope impression, “well, where do you last remember _seeing_ Mami?” The two of them smile, but aimlessly look around.

Schneider, knowing it will shine a spotlight on whatever muddied tension they’d managed to burrow through earlier, finally speaks up. “I know where she is.” He jogs off in the direction of their valley view without waiting for the search party to follow.

Avery smiles nervously at the family in the other adults’ familiar absence.

  
\--

Penelope hears familiar pine needle crunching and rock scraping.

“Hey, Pen, you comin’?”

She turns around with her classic manic-nervous-but-still-charming smile. “We just go back to L.A.? That’s it?”

With his face relaxing a little from the jog, Schneider walks over to tug on her hair in its bun, accidentally pulling a few curls loose. “I think we have to, right?”

They both know what they mean.

He continues with his bearded side smile, “we go back to the city, back to you– uh, 'disliking camping',” he removes his hand from where he had absentmindedly lingered in her hair, “and back to me, well, being your handsome neighbor who definitely doesn’t sit next to you under the stars.”

They both laugh.

“Sounds good.”

He throws an arm over her shoulder to lead them back to the campsite.

“Anyway,” Schneider cracks a smug chuckle, “last night was so _embarrassing_ for you.”

Zero to outrage in a second. “For _me?_ ” Penelope pinches his side. “I, what? Go back to being a beautiful NP in a major world city?” She touches her hand to her cheek in sarcastic despair. “How _will_ I cope?!” Her bun was loosening now in her dramatic gesturing.

“Well!” Schneider yells, trying to find words. “I guess I’ll have to _‘fall back’_ into my rich athletic nerd aesthetic, just _tragically_ owning property in the middle of L.A. and,” his voice raises to a bellow – she’s never heard him bellow – “ ** _somehow_ ** find a way to make it in this world!”

Penelope keeps her voice sharp, though her tone shifts, “and that’s what you want? That’s actually _enough_ for you?”

Schneider, suddenly confused and dropped his voice significantly, “no… it’s not what I want!”

They let their ears ring for three eternal seconds and then practically leap to crash their bodies and mouths together. _[Can I do this and sleep tonight?] [Can I do this and then sit in the crowded car with my frickin' family?]_ There’s no time for this to become anything but clumsy bodies in a clumsy situation. Just frustration turned desperate.

They reluctantly part, in sync, and wordlessly jog back to the car, where, of course, Avery waits, smiling from the driver's seat.

Schneider proudly gives a Vanna White arm gesture toward Penelope as they pull open the back door to the car. Everyone looks a combination of impatient and glad to be leaving.


	5. La Esperanza

After an unnecessarily tiring day, the group is quickly and systematically unloading their things from the car. The sun set about an hour ago, while they were on their way west into the city. Avery loads her bag into her petite hybrid’s passenger seat before driving off a little hastily. Almost wordlessly. The family purse their lips at each other. _Sometimes chismos@s are quiet._

Schneider turns in the family’s direction, where Lydia is already waiting for him with a tisk-tisk sharp eyebrow raise. Penelope offers a weak smile and heads inside with most of their bags in hand. The kids follow, ready to lay in their clean beds.

“Gue arr _always_ at de begeenin ov de rrest ov our lives, E-Schneider.” Lydia grabs his hand and pulls it between hers.

He’s always a little shocked by how frail she is. 

She continues, “and now, ju hab de opchun to not e-scrrew it op!” Lydia finishes with her triumphant thespian finger to the sky.

Schneider looks down at the bright flame that is Lydia, wondering how much, if anything she knows about the situation. Or how much she really needs to know before she can say the right thing. When he opens his mouth to speak, she raises her finger again. _Oop, she’s not done._

“Plos…” Lydia links her arm with his and speaks pointedly, “wit matters ov de heart, dere is _always_ a clear direk-shon. If dere isn’t, den, maybe ju arr not dealink wit a matter ov de heart.”

Schneider responds, barely believing what he’s saying, “it’s more complicated. I have to be reasonable. _Practical_ .” He winces at the (probably obvious) evasion. _Not really my bag but maybe the idea of practicality is out of her realm enough that she’ll drop it._

Lydia squints. “Este… ‘practical’ mierda is for pregnan teenajers. If I hab learn anythin from bein poor in América, it is this: de more money de less time ju hab to spen on decisions, verdad?” She punctuates nearly every word with her same index finger, like a helicopter-parent-turned-orchestra-conductor.

There is no doubt that Lydia is missing important complexities in his problem. But he’s also not acknowledging some fundamental simplicities.

They head inside while she winks, “it ees a sort ov lucky nightmare libink in dis contry, na?”

  
  


Schneider sets the rest of the family’s bags on the floor by the couch and Lydia immediately heads to her room, whipping the curtains closed. The kids appear to be already arguing over the shower, with Penelope about to play – and win with – the mom card. Before she can throw her hat in the ring, Schneider catches her gaze and wordlessly flicks his eyes upstairs.

It’d be pretty humiliating if Penelope guessed wrong about what he was saying, so she mouths a silent but agitated _‘what?_ ’

He replies with a ‘hang loose’ sign between the two of them, and mouths, _‘talk?_ ’, with a very emphatic eyebrow furrow.

She verbalizes, “okay, but I’m showering in your master bath,” while grabbing a towel.

Schneider wears a ‘well why not’ face as they head out into the hall.

A foot into his apartment, he hurries to set down his camping duffel and tent (which had been tucked into an annoyingly tight roll) by his work table. 

“So, I’ll just.” Penelope thumbs over her shoulder. She finds herself nervous-smiling as if she materialized at a bar with a handsome stranger.

Schneider butler-bows to lead the way to his master bathroom. When they arrive at its cracked door, it feels a lot like the end of a date, with him politely walking her home. He wonders, _have I ever even done that?_

“I’ll just be a minute. Got lots of mountain on me. Well, you know.” Penelope’s attempt at light-heartedness doesn’t work in cutting through the weight of hours of unrelenting social strain.

“Yep, I think I’ll join you.” Schneider jokingly tugs his shirt up and smiles when she rolls her eyes and shuts the door in his face. _No amount of mutual … ‘adult mistakes’ could break down the glue of her flirtatious impatience. That can withstand a lot of damage._

  
  
  


Just a few minutes later, the bathroom is free and he shimmies in to also “rinse off”. 

  
  
  


“Okay,” Schneider exhales out, his voice nearly all grunt while he stretches his back, “let’s talk.” He wears an identical robe to the one she put on. As he joins a waiting Penelope on the couch, he slams down a half-full mason jar of a honey face mask.

“Alright.” Penelope lifts the jar, “and this is here because…”

“Busy hands. Helps cognition. Conversation flow.” Schneider swirls his hands in the air like an upper level English professor trying to be cool and casual.

Penelope barks out, “I don’t need this frickin’ thing!”

He swallows with the veteran patience of a retail manager. “Your tone makes me think that _you_ need the mask more than _I_ do.” Schneider opens the jar and loads his middle three fingers with honey-ed skin care, daring to suggest he was going to apply hers himself.

She grants him a warning tone and a familiar raised finger, “Schneider if you put that caca on my face, I’ll beat your ass.”

He swiftly pivots his hand and smears it on his own cheek. “Okay. I’ll start.” He spreads more onto his T-zone, crows’ feet, and forehead, without breaking eye contact. “I’m not sorry we kissed.”

Penelope’s nostrils flare. “Just you saying that you don’t think we made a mistake,” she inhales and blinks several times, “makes me realize how big of a mistake it was.”

“All I know–”

“I mean, in the history of bad choices I’ve made, kissing my boo’d up lunatic landlord in the middle of the woods while our people waited in the car–”

“All I know is th-”

“–who on any. other. day. would be pissing me off in the home that I pay _him_ for–”

“That I don’t want to not at least try!” Schneider yells (in the way a person who hates yelling yells).

“We don’t know what we’re like together. You can’t throw away that great connection you have with Avery for the sake of starting something that could, and probably will, fizzle so soon.”

Schneider sighs. “If I am willing to discard something,” he raises a hand to represent his relationship, “then was it worth fighting for?”

“Schneider, what would Avery say if she knew we were having this conversation?”

“Well, that’s _gotta_ be over. Tomorrow, probably.” He shrugs.

“You’re gonna throw a wrench in _aaall_ o' that just so we can have a ‘rap sesh’?” Penelope makes a comical male voice.

“I don’t love her! The wrench is thrown!” He almost looks desperate. “The thing isn’t there.” Schneider thuds his chest.

“Oye bobo, relationships are - what do they say?” She points to him, “for richer,” then to herself, “for poorer, through sickness,” she frantically flicks between his head and her own and finishes with dropping her hands to her legs.

“Did you have a point that doesn’t strengthen mine?” Schneider laughs.

Penelope looks confused. “My point is. We’ve got the basic structure of a successful future but we’re missing the mutual good. The s- the _stuff_.”

He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, “sounds like your point is we’re just missing the ‘having and holding’ bit.”

“I would love it if you could be serious.” She sits up on her folded legs. “It’s hard enough to take you seriously with that cream all over your face.”

“Pen, you know what _I_ think.” Schneider grabs her shoulder to jostle her like a swim team coach. “It’s hard to take you seriously with that bare face.” He holds up the open jar toward her.

“Fine.” Penelope grabs a glob and dabs it around her cheeks and chin.

“No, no, no.” Schneider grabs her wrist. “You’ve got it all wrong.” He takes the remaining pad of buttery face mask from her fingers and smooths it along her nose and around her eyes. “Truly missed my calling as a dermatologist.”

Forgetting herself, Penelope closes her eyes and smirks.

While he smooths the mounds of mask on her face, Schneider tries not to pay any attention to how the breath from her nose is tickling his chest. 

When he’s smoothed the mask down pretty evenly, he rubs the little remaining cream off her hand.

She opens her eyes.

“Pen–” he shakes his head with a familiar incredulous smile, “–I think I could help you live in the moment more. Y’know… sink in a little…”

Penelope looks down at her hands then back up at him.

He continues, “isn’t that what you need?”

“Is that us _growing_ together? Would we really make each other better if we’re making each other _loco_?”

“Hey,” Schneider pinches her thigh, “it’s still growth if it’s in the roots, right?”

“Schneider, I don’t want to _be_ with someone just to _be_ with someone. That’s not what I meant last night!” _God, was that only last night?_

He flinches while he watches her freshly showered curls get caught in the mask. “Listen, I’m just teasing you. If you don’t want a relationship with me, I’m not going to actually beg to convince you, Lupe. That’s not cute.”

Her face falls in a tiny way. “Well. Good.”

Schneider looks up at Penelope through his softly sincere face. “Friends?” He offers a hand to shake.

“Best friends.” She throws that extra bit in out of kindness. Or something. And shakes his hand.

Their hands morph out of a handshake into a tangled finger web that feels suitably clumsy but still intimate.

“Do friends do this?” Schneider jokes, indicating their hand holding.

“Does _anyone_ do this?” Penelope pulls her hand free and sits back, giving her knees a break.

After a minute, she stands up to head downstairs. Just before the door, she turns around.

“I still have–”

“You still have the face mask on.”

They wordlessly march to the bathroom to huddle over the same wide, stone sink. Penelope dries off her face and throws her towel over her shoulder to take down to the apartment. When Schneider pulls his face from where it was buried in a (much higher thread count) towel, they meet eyes in the mirror. He stands a foot behind her but she’s so short that they’re both in full view, formatted together like an old family portrait (filled with anachronisms).

She steps back until she’s flush with him, still looking at him in the mirror.

Schneider pulls her wet hair back, almost reminding her of a stylist. He lets it go to drape his arms over her shoulders and across her chest.

The pair sync a dizzyingly long exhale.

“Okay.” Penelope says and their eyes lock in their reflection again.

 _Does she mean…_ “Yeah?” Schneider tries to play it cool.

“I need time,” she sets a hesitating tone, “but yeah. Let’s try.” Penelope’s smile is back, the least nervous it’s seemed in days.

“Time.” He manages to sound pretty resolved. Feeling reassured with little information.

“Not time apart. Just with boundaries and, I don’t know. Just time. To figure out how this fits in.”

He suppresses a grin and lays a rough kiss on the top of her head. “I’m in no rush.” 


	6. Y Ahora?

Penelope knocks on the front door to Schneider’s apartment but, after a few seconds, opens the door herself. _Bad influences._

“Hey Schneider, I wanted to know if–” Penelope stops in her tracks behind the couch. “Y qué e’ eso?

Schneider turns over his shoulder, looking stunned and guilty. 

Penelope grimaces. “Y’know, I- I think I would’ve rather caught you watching porn.” 

He starts, trying to close the window of a whispery Youtube video of a nurse performing a POV eye exam, “it gives me the brain tickles.”

“Is that a good thing? Not like, I don’t know, symptoms of brain damage?”

“... It’s a good thing.”

“A whispering nurse? Is this a– a fetish-y stand-in situation?”

“No, Pen, it’s a _‘my therapist is out of town and I’m not dating right now’_ situation. Keeps me grounded.”

“You’re in therapy?” She quirks her head.

“I’ve talked about him before, right? He’s also my almond-milker.” He reflexively quirks his head, too. “Is that weird for you? That I have a therapist?”

“No! No, it’s good that you’re working thr– what the _hell_ is _that_ , Schneider?” Penelope points.

“My earring?”

“Yeah, your dangly crystal earring.”

“Well, I got my ear pierced a while ago for my stage presence. You know, my craft.” He sighs and points at his electric guitar that she definitely never noticed before.

“That’s all fine. Not too many leaps from what I know of you. I guess rich people need hobbies… but what is _with_ the smoky pink crystal?”

“Oh my healing crystal? That’s rose quartz. It’s for self-worth and cultivating love. I collected it myself at a mine in Bahia, Brazil. Have you been?”

“Yeah, we went there once. It was on a google street view walk, though.” She exhales sharply. “You know, Schneider, I can’t explain why, but in my gut– in my _soul–_ you wearing a long dangling healing crystal from your ear makes me more annoyed than most things you’ve done.” Penelope closes her eyes.

He feigns shock. “Did you come up here just to mock me?”

She tries to pivot the conversation. “No I wanted to let you know that I got King Taco, everybody’s already eating!”

“King Taco #2 or #9?” Schneider leans back on the couch, looking satisfied.

Penelope’s face flattens. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Number 2, fool.” 

“I’ll be down in a sec.”

  
  
  


\---

“Solo pa’ que sepas, mijita, este top no te cae bien.” Lydia looks with a squint at her daughter’s formless t-shirt.

“Y solo pa’ que sepas, mami, your tostones are dry.” Penelope smiles, feeling smug but annoyed. She grabs another taco de suadero from the paper takeout bags.

Lydia gasps, outraged.

Penelope crooks an eyebrow and goes in for the kill. “Y demasia’o e-salty.” 

“Daang, Mami didn’t come to play tonight!” Alex covers his mouth.

Lydia doesn’t miss a beat. “Bueno, _Lupita Solita_ they weren’t too salty to keep a man.”

Penelope looks up from her plate. “Cuidado, viejita…”

“Well, Lydia, I don’t think our Lupe needs any advice in the love department,” Schneider pipes in from the doorway and begins to cross the room to the kitchen table. “You should be teaching men how to hold onto _her_.”

Elena claps her hands together over her head and Lydia, unlikely to admit her wrongs, sucks her teeth and leaves for the kitchen.

Schneider grabs two sopes de cabeza, which he can count on always being left because, well, everyone else thinks they’re gross.

“Hey, Schneider!” Elena waves with the three greasy fingers that are not supporting the sagging burrito. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Alex laughs, “yeah, busy day at the office?”

Schneider looks unbothered. “Well, _actually_ , I don’t have much going on, why?”

“I have a writing group tomorrow night and was wondering if maybe you and Avery wanted.. to. Come” She stutters, watching her mom and Schneider wince. “Aaaand you broke up.”

He tries to blow through the question. “Yes, but that sounds nice! What got you into writing?”

“Well, I’m just dabbling,” Elena goofily smiles and gains energy, “I’m reading _Little Weirds_ by Jenny Slate and I’m super in love with her.”

Lydia decides to snidely contribute as she reenters the room, “nena, gue arr too poor to ‘dabble’.”

“I also realize that my extracurriculars could use some rounding out.” Elena takes a huge bite of her burrito, looking a little ashamed.

“Well, I’m in.” Schneider hits the table as punctuation.

Elena swallows. “Thank you thank you thank you! Tomorrow’s sesh is at Leon Coffee by UCLA.”

“Tomorrow, yeah, just come upstairs and get me before then and I will be so ready to go!”

She gets up from the table and assembles her homework, “I’m so excited. Okay, I only have 45 minutes left of studying today and then we can play Super Smash?”

Alex, Schneider, and Elena meet their hands over the table for a fist bump.

Penelope finds it best to remain quiet, so she blasts through her chicken tacos.

As the kids leave the room, Schneider pulls Penelope up from the table to chat on the fire escape. “Sidebar, Alvarez!”

“What is it Schneider?” She deadpans, assuming this couldn’t possibly be important.

He lowers his voice to lower than his usual attempt at whispering (which usually comes out like a kid on stage who forgot his line). “I don’t want you to think I’m incentivizing you or anything, but can I just say that it feels really weird to charge you rent now?”

“So it didn’t feel weird asking us to pay _you_ when you were spending 20% of your time _here_?”

“Okay, how about you still pay utilities and we ignore rent? You can put your money towards Elena and Alex’s tuition.”

“Schneider, of course I could use financial breaks, but I haven’t made up my mind about how you fit in yet and this feels a little bit like a post-vow joint checking, okay?”

Unsurprised by her response, he quickly adds, “I just don’t want you to forget that I could help.”

Penelope takes some inventory and whispers. “You help enough. And it sounds like incentivizing when you say it like that.”

“Heard.” Schneider salutes, casually, remembering midway that she hates that. Scanning her face, he sympathetically winces. “Trying to figure out what you see in me?”

“Schneider, I am still thinking. Considering it all. Is there anything else you feel like I should know before…” She flicks her hands between them. “Like, how many meetings you’ve gone to this month, history of STDs, etc?”

“Pen, do you do this with all the guys or am I just special?” He grins, waiting for an impatient glare. “Okay, never got an STD–”

“That’s a miracle.”

“-I know- lemme finish. Been to 15 meetings this month. Most recent one was this morning,” he gains momentum at her eyebrow perk but changes his tone, “and, finally, the other day, your mom put blush on me to see how the color went with my eyes. Well not blush exactly. She mixed lipstick with vaseline and rubbed it on my cheeks. Is that still blush? Makes you think.”

“Schneider, nice to hear about the meetings. Definitely don’t need the visual of my mother rubbing tinted petroleum onto your cheeks, but thanks for sharing.” She pauses. “I prolly don’t ever need to know the details of you and my mother’s friendship. How about we keep that a locked treasure chest?”

“I was once broken up with because she said my radical honesty was actually ‘suspicious’.” He air-quotes meekly.

“Y’know, I get that.” She bites her lip to hide a smile and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I like the honesty, just it makes me sad what my mother makes men do out of some little Cuban lady power trip.”

“No, I asked her opinion. I’ve been looking a little washed out lately.”

“Okay, boy, I’d love to relate, but I’m a _nurse_ so I don’t have time to worry about my complexion.”

“Well, you know _you’re_ always looking summery and bright.” He lifts a hand to pinch her cheek affectionately but, before he can, Penelope silently pivots and they climb back down into the kitchen.

  
  


When the family gathers to the couch for a quick game, Schneider reaches a long arm along the back of the sofa and twirls a finger in Penelope’s hair.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sope de cabeza is basically a small, open faced taco where the meat is cheek or eyeball or brain and stuff! It's actually really popular.  
> I'm trying to type a Cuban accent in the Spanish as well, I hope it is legible. We drop our d's and s's.  
> Has anyone been watching Gentefied?? It killed me!! I love it.  
> Funnily enough, I was delayed on this chapter because I went on a camping trip in CA


	7. Blackout

“Damn. Damn. Frickin’ crap.” Penelope is startled out of an almost successful post-dinner nap. Her alarm was set to go off in 20 minutes and she was just beginning to feel her eyelids getting heavier.

 _“Puto coño carajo!”_ rings from the living room.

 _“Blackout!”_ Alex’s panicked voice accompanies the sound of six scurrying Cuban feet.

“Aaand I’m up.” Penelope angrily throws the covers off her legs and walks into the living room. “Guys, it’s just the rolling blackouts, can y’all chill? Mama was tryna nap in there!”

Alex puts his hands on his temples and then towards the heavens, or maybe the all-powerful PG&E. “It’s not 1999, I need the internet for my homework! And to do, like, _anything_.”

“Yeah, we’re passed the days of pulling out books to pass the time.” Elena is beginning to look more agitated than concerned.

Penelope puts a hand up. “Can you two not decade-splain me, please? We can talk to Schneider. He prolly has tablets with data and stuff. And that is gonna have to do.” She is trying not to project her life’s compounding frustrations onto her family. She gives a pointed lead-the-way arm swing to the kids, who grab their backpacks and head out the door. Lydia, squinting through the near darkness, quickly freshens up her lipstick in the mirror hooked to the wall beside Pope Francis.

“Y qué, mami? Hot date tonight?” 

“Oh, Lupe, ju most always be rready to be e-seen!” She castanets her hands, as if waiting for applause, and then quickly beelines for the hallway, “y bamo’.”

Penelope rolls her eyes but, after a second, quickly runs back to her bedroom to change her shirt. She won’t change out of her sweatpants, though. _No man is worth that._

When she meets the rest of the family outside of Schneider’s apartment, she gives a questioning eyebrow furrow, to which Alex replies, “he’s not answering the door.”

Penelope quickly pulls out her keys and, using the light from her cellphone, fumbles for the one that– “got it.” She pushes into the apartment and Lydia and the kids exchange a quick glance.

Before Elena has closed the door behind her, Schneider pops into the doorway. “Making good use of the key, Lupita, huh?”

Everyone in the room very subtly winces at how flirtatious that sounded. He tries to stampede through that. “Sorry I wasn’t here, was just checking on everyone.” He walks over to the couch, where the kids have already made themselves comfortable, and knocks on the corner. “‘Tis the season, I guess.”

“Rolling blackouts.” Penelope sighs, though sort of speaking to herself.

“Oh no,” Schneider’s eyes bulge, “ours is scheduled a while ahead! This is because of the wildfire.”

“So this isn’t, like, a few hours?” Alex asks, clearly not thinking about homework as much as losing outside contact.

“Ay, mijo,” Penelope gives Schneider a barely visible _yikes_ face through the dark, “these can be much longer than that.”

Schneider stretches his back and starts to search for his head lamp. He just wishes he had his head lamp so he could find it. “Yeeeaahh, these can last days.”

Penelope says the first thing that she thinks of during a blackout. “Okay, whatchu got?” She walks over to his refrigerator to try to find anything worth saving. “Schneider, you have _Ben & Jerry’s_? Why do I find that so surprising?”

He walks up behind her to supervise the scavenger hunt, feeling a little vulnerable.

When she feels him flush with her back in the dark, certain that no one can see them in this now almost pitch black apartment, she boldly pushes back a little against him. Not for any reason, not to do anything else. Just as a silent gesture of _yes, still._

Schneider braces himself over her head on the open door to the freezer. He swallows before speaking, “okay, so what should we all eat now to not have to toss it later?”

Penelope pulls out her phone light, careful to be conservative with the battery. “So, we have ice cream,” she tucks it under her arm, “cheese can last in a little room temp, so can these carrots but - well I’m not about to eat a buncha yogurt - fruits will last - shrimp can slow thaw - okay it looks like just the ice cream for now! The rest we can do for snacks and breakfast and stuff.” She pockets her phone and navigates the kitchen in the darkness, still able to quickly find spoons.

“Breakfast?” He tries to monitor his tone.

“Sleepover, right?” Penelope feels a little stupid stumbling on an assumption that he would have easily made if they were all downstairs. But the new turf changes that. She’s not sure why. “If the camping trip taught you anything, it’s that my family is real afraid of the dark. We’re not rugged people.”

He smiles and she can’t see it. “Funny, I actually had other important takeaways from that trip.” He lowers his voice.

She smiles and he can’t see it. Instead of dwelling on the uncomfortable comedy in this situation, she squeezes past him to deliver the _Tonight Dough_ and spoons to the living room. Alex has already gained access to Schneider’s computer.

Elena, partially illuminated by the screen as though by an urban bonfire, states, “it’s like we’re camping again.”

“Mhhmm,” Schneider hum-giggles dramatically. “Yup.”

When Lydia and Elena crowd around Alex to share the ice cream by the light of the screen, Penelope and Schneider manage to quietly walk off to his bedroom hallway. 

“How cute is this? You and me chatting in the dark again?” He blindly swings a playful hand to tap her arm, but lands somewhere on her stomach. “Only this time there’s no moonlight or anything to make this less spooky.” Forgetting she can’t see him, he makes a theatrically scared face.

“Super cute, Schneider,” Penelope deadpans, “but I pulled you over here to talk.” She aims up to touch his shoulder but ends up cupping his neck a bit. It creates a moment of an almost funny amount of heat between them.

“You… did?” Schneider quietly asks, skeptically. “What about, Pen?”

“I, uh, don’t remember.” She still hasn’t pulled her hand back down. Penelope keeps talking, hoping the thoughts will come back to her, “thanks for letting us stay here.” She extracts the hand from his neck to pat his chest. As platonically as you can pat a tall man’s chest.

“Of course, neighbor.” He maintains his voice’s regular jolly and naïve color even though it’s now electrified and nearly whispered.

“What are the sleeping arrangements?” She chokes out, sounding like an overeager teenager.

“I didn’t know ‘til a second ago that you were staying, but, uh–” he tries to use a mental map of his place to plan everything. “I mean, are _you_ afraid of the dark, too? Couldn’t you - or the both of us - sleep downstairs and Alex, your mom, and Elena can stay on the internet up here? Or we could all go downstairs?” Schneider is not sure why it’s so complicated.

“Well, I think they’d feel more comfortable if we did this like a sleepover. It’s a little sad just sitting in your regular room alone but in the dark at 7pm, y’know what I mean?”

“That does actually make sense, yeah, okay.” He wipes his neck, the un-circulated air finally building on him. “So, I only have the two bedrooms and the couch.”

“Lydia and Elena on the king, Alex on the queen, you on the couch, and I can grab cushions from downstairs to form into a lil’ fluffy cot.” Penelope quickly rattles off, almost embarrassed by how well she knows Schneider’s apartment.

“Reverse the last two and you got it.” He winks through the darkness. “Your shoulder.”

She nudges him, now pretty certain where he is. “Yeah, but you’re old.”

His outraged gasp doesn’t need visible body language. “I am _not_ old!”

“Okay, can you just grab me a candle from your bedroom? I know you try too hard to impress women, so you gotta have some in there.”

He sighs. She was right. He fumbles a little bit with the matches in the dark to light the unscented candle on his dresser. Seconds later, he returns with the lit candle, creating a beard-shaped shadow over his face. “Okay, but I’m coming down with you.”

“Fine, fine.” She turns to re-enter the living room area and stares through the dark at the faces still illuminated by the computer light. “Okay, guys, we’re gonna go downstairs to grab some stuff for the sleepover, okay? Anyone need anything?”

“Well, the idea of you walking through the dark building by candlelight is a little too Dickens novel for me, so just be careful,” Elena warns.

“How about I bring up more food for whatever gross breakfast we throw together tomorrow morning?”

“Brring de Bustelo can, mijita,” Lydia says, sounding incredibly serious.

“Mami, we prolly won’t have a way to heat–” 

Alex interrupts her to beat Lydia to her obvious response, “bueno, for el café, dere is _always_ a way.”

Penelope throws her hands up in the dark, “I’ll just bring it. God knows what she’s gonna do.”

They exit into the hallway, which is even darker than his apartment. Without the candle, they’d be completely sightless. She clings a little to Schneider so they don’t stumble down the steps together.

\--

Penelope fumbles through her keys to get the door open for long enough that Schneider pulls a single key out of his pocket and unlocks the door effortlessly.

At her silence, he responds, “I’m here all the time.”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, “you really are.” She walks in.

He pulls the door closed behind them and quickly tosses the door chain on. Partially because he believes this would be the most likely time for a Purge-type situation if that were to ever happen and partially because, well, you never know.

Penelope, already feeling through the closet by the door, calls over her shoulder, “I am only three cushions long, so this should be enough.”

“Welp, Pen, you’re forgetting that I’m _five_ cushions long, and _I’m_ the one sleeping on the floor.”

She turns around to look at him and they share a small smile through the candle light. She claps her hands together before walking over to pull the final two cushions from the sofa.

Schneider tries to follow her to keep her path illuminated with his fading candle, but he softly collides with her back, entangling his tech watch in her hair.

“Really, dude?” She says, annoyed, while she turns around slowly.

He sets the candle carefully on the coffee table and sits them down slowly on the floor while he tries to work her strands loose from the tiny knobs.

“How bad do you need your hair?” Schneider jokes, “do you think your patients would miss this curl?”

Penelope does not find it funny. “I think mami would notice as soon as the lights came back on, actually.”

“I was just kidding, it’s already out, Pen” He raises his freed wrist as proof.

She is not brave enough to hold his gaze for very long these days. “Shoulda brought a bigger candle, right?”

He looks over at the table, where his candle is flickering in a pool of melted wax. 

“So that gets a lot of use?”

“Got.” He knows what she’s getting at. “Past tense.”

“Hmm, okay. Heard.” Penelope nods slowly with nervous pursed lips. She leans over the coffee table and blows out the candle very decidedly. Turns out, she is a little brave.

Just like his apartment, light pollution from the smog (and probably smoke) allowed them at least the silver outlines of each other. Instead of leaning back to her spot on the floor against the couch frame, Penelope turns around from the extinguished candle and Schneider is already shifting his arms to pull her onto him while she reaches through the dark for the back of his neck. When she manages to pull him up for a rough and bodied kiss, they collapse together very easily. An exhale and a sighed giggle, almost in relief at how unbelievably coordinated and comfortable reciprocated love can be. 

“So, we’re not bad at that…” Schneider says, sounding a little blown away.

“Nope.” She is still processing his strong hands resting on her hips when she goes in to kiss him again.

He responds for a moment but pauses. “Pen–”

“What, should we hurry?”

“No, I just want to know.” He rests his hands down again. “Does all this end with you and me together?” He sounds solemn and embarrassed.

She knows what he is asking. “Huh?”

“All this…” he waves his arm to imply their position, “and the waiting and the whispering. Are they steps forward or am I just readi– God, why did I bring this up before we did stuff to each other? I’m an idiot.” He closes his eyes to laugh inwardly.

Penelope flattens her lips in a smile she saves only for him and her voice rasps out, “nah, you don’t gotta wait anymore.” She flicks his bicep.

Schneider blows out sharply and accepts the invitation.


End file.
